


A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

by moiraabsinthe



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moiraabsinthe/pseuds/moiraabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A decade after the final battle with Pitch, Tooth’s curiosity of Pitch’s past becomes too much and she finally takes Pitch’s tooth from its confines and watches his memories.  Astonished and disturbed by what she sees she tells the others that Pitch has to know of his past.  They are apprehensive at first, but after watching the memories themselves they agree with Tooth’s plan.  But will Pitch want to see them?  What has happened to him in those ten years? Will Pitch even be there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

After Pitch had been banished back to his kingdom beneath the broken bed, life went on as usual.  Bunnymund and North worked feverishly to make sure Easter and Christmas came and went with nary a flaw.  Tooth and Sandy continued their nightly work of tooth collecting and dream giving.  And, of course, Jack would create the best snow days that any child ever experienced.  The freshly fallen snow would glisten like precious jewels as the low winter sun hit it just right.  Jack’s snow was always perfect to fashion into snowballs or to build snowmen with, but soft enough to make snow angels in and make snow cream from.  The winter spirit always made an effort to check up on Jaime, Sophie and his friends, for they might as well be Guardians themselves having helped defeat the Nightmare King.  When they weren’t working the big four, _five_ now, would spend much time together recollecting on their work and anything else of interest. 

One night; however, Tooth is still in her office even after all the teeth have been collected and organized for the night which is very unlike her.  The other Guardians wondered if they should go and check on her, but ultimately decided that it is best for her to have her space for now.  All of them cherished a few precious moments of alone time.  Despite enjoying others’ company, there are days where one just needs some time to him or herself.  The tooth fairy sat at her desk with her fingers laced underneath her chin.  Every now and again her eyes would look down at one of the tiny drawers within the desk.  Most days she doesn’t even think of it, but today she can’t seem to keep her mind of it. 

_Pitch’s tooth._

The very trophy she had knocked from his mouth at the last second before he was cast out yet again.  She wondered what secrets it held.  However, she was also frightened at said secrets.  What kind of man would Pitch had been in his past life?  If he was good, then why was he given such a terrible fate?  Those questions normally kept her away from his tooth, but not this night.  This night, her curiosity was much too great and she opened the drawer and plucked the pointed tooth out of it and held it between her fingers before setting it on the table before her.  There is still some apprehension, but she knows that if she doesn’t unlock his memories that she will just keep dwelling on it until she finally gives in.  She picks up the tooth, places it in the palm of her hand, and folds her fingers around it gently.  Her eyes close and that’s when she begins to see everything. 

She sees a man that looks much like Pitch, same hair, same facial structure, same eyes even.  Except this man does not wear long black robes, nor does he have pale grey skin.  Instead, he’s in military garb with a sword in hand rushing into battle on the back of a golden horse.  The thunderous pounding of the hooves reverberate in her ears as he charges forth.  With a loud cry he raises his sword and brings it down upon the first few Fearlings that flew at him.  They are awful looking creatures; smoky black phantoms with horrible, wide grey eyes and mouths that curved downward into perpetual frowns.  He fought valiantly against them, cutting down every Fearling that dare cross his path.  It is hard to believe that Pitch used to be this man; a soldier, a _hero_ , but not just any hero, one of the Golden Age.  

Time fast forwards itself and the battle is now done and won.  She sees all the Fearlings captured in and put behind large sturdy doors where they surely could never escape.  And there is Pitch again, or General Kozmotis Pitchiner as she had come to learn.  Tooth heard Kozmotis volunteer to be the guardsman at the jail where the Fearlings would be kept.  “No one is better suited for the job,” he tells the other man.  An overwhelming feeling of dread sweeps over the fairy now, as she can only imagine for this to go poorly…  But what’s this?  There is something around his neck; a necklace yes, but more specifically a locket.  Tooth watches as his brow would furrow from a long day of stress and how his eyes would look tired and weary.  But each time they did he would open the locket and stare at the image inside.  He seemed to lose ten years in age by just doing that.  For a moment her eyes became his and she could see the picture of a little girl, cut out into a perfect oval.    

When he closes the locket she returns to being an unseen, yet omniscient presence.  She can hear the horrid cackling and taunting of the Fearlings as they rattled about in their cells calling out for Kozmotis as he tried his best to keep a straight face and a stern stance.  Time would fast forward every so often, showing her months and even years of his duty.  Every time it got overbearing he would look at the locket and return to his fearless self.  But that is when things took a terrible turn, and the Fearlings figured out just how to unravel the General.  They began to mimic his daughter, yelling out to him for him to save her.  Tooth can already feel tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes, and it is the first time she wishes she could help Kozmotis.  She can’t believe what she is seeing. Why?  Why him?  Why not take some criminal and give him this terrible task?  

“Daddy please, it’s so dark in here!  Help me!  Daddy, I’m scared!” they begin to cry.  And they are relentless.  Calling and yelling for him over and over until it is practically hypnotic.  Kozmotis is breaking from the inside out, and he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take before going mad.  He knows his daughter isn’t there, but the cries sound so real, so like her that it’s finally too much and he falls into a trance-like state before flinging the door open.  The horrid, ghostly creatures descend upon him all at once, overwhelming him, consuming him, possessing him.  In the process the ghastly things rip the locket from his neck, and Tooth watches it fall to the floor with a small clank.  

She can hear his frantic screaming and it disturbed her to her very core.  She isn’t sure if it is physically painful or not, but she hopes that it isn’t.  His body didn’t need to ache when his mind and soul did.  When she returns her gaze to Kozmotis he has grown to a monstrous size.  His hair is now an inky black, as are his robes that drape to the floor and unfurl around his feet.  His skin is the pale grey that she is used to seeing now, and the only golden thing left on him is his eyes.  When the possession is complete, he rears his head back with maniacal laughter, and any inkling of the heroic General is now completely destroyed, and Pitch as they know him now is created.

And then it is over.

The tooth falls from her palm onto the desk as she brings both hands to her face and sobs into them.  She doesn’t understand why he was given this fate, and again the questions return.  Why was a hero turned into the worst villain they have ever known?  She couldn’t wrap her mind around _why_.  Why him?  Why not someone who deserved to be punished?  But that is not how the world works, she reminds herself, and bad things happen to good people.  She could not keep this to herself, though, if anything he deserves to know what happened to him, and he deserves for others to know as well.  When she finally pulls her hands away from her face she notices that they are trembling.  A tap on her office door startles her and she tries to compose herself before answering it.  Apparently she had been cooped up in here for longer than she thought. 

She is greeted by North’s smiling face, which immediately drops when he sees her red eyes.  “What is wrong?  I’ve never seen you so sad before.”

“I watched them.”

North is silent for a moment, knowing exactly what she means.  They have talked about what to do with his tooth for a long time.  “And what did you see?”

“Horrible, cruel things.  That Pitch was a hero once, with a family, only to have it ripped it away in a terrible twist of fate.”  She pauses for a few seconds.  “Everyone needs to see these, including Pitch himself.”

He is hesitant at first, but ultimately nods, agreeing with her.  “Tomorrow, we call meeting and shall watch them before seeking him out.  I think it would be wise if the others saw them before he did so they know what they are in for.”

When the time came Tooth took the bicuspid in her hand, but this time she projected the memories up against the wall like an old super 8 film.  Her countenance is already one of upset and Bunny wonders just how bad the memories could be.  He figures that he must have been a wretched man in his past life to get her that unsettled.  Tooth averts her gaze as they start up, not wanting to see them again and the others sat in complete silence.  It is safe to say they did not expect to see Pitch as a soldier, much less a hero of the Golden Age.  But that is only the beginning and Tooth could feel the tension and emotions within the room shift as his memories played on.  They saw him as a war hero, a family man, and finally, the guardsman.  There is a gasp from Jack as the last part begins.  He knows now just how lonely Pitch is.  And why he said what he did to him, about longing for a family.  He knows that Pitch surely doesn’t remember this what happened to him and who he was, but they still define who he is now.  Tooth can hear the Fearlings cackling again, the door being flung open, Kozmotis’ screams, and then Pitch’s laughter that rang out throughout the entire room.  When they are over, the entire room is silent until North finally speaks up.

“When do you propose we show these to Pitch?”

“As soon as possible,” Tooth suggests.

The others are still stunned to silence, but eventually they all go their separate ways to either rest for the night or begin their work.  Tooth is just happy she has something to take her mind off what she’s had to witness twice.  She hopes they can get to Pitch quickly so that she may never have to witness them again, not to mention she knows it will be even more painful with Pitch himself watches them.  Soon enough she is too busy organizing teeth to dwell on the subject any longer.  The smaller tooth fairies zip about placing teeth in their appropriate containers.  Some of them are so fast they barely have time to watch where they are going and almost run into each other, causing Tooth to chuckle and roll her eyes.  Quite the hard workers they are; she couldn’t ask for anything more.

In the darkness there dwells a much bleaker scene.  Such a humiliating defeat befell the once feared Nightmare King.  His own Night Mares had turned against him dragging him down to the cold, dank bowels of the earth where his kingdom lies.  He was and still is consumed by the black sand, and it swirls around him like a hurricane.  Sometimes it would get into his eyes and he would cry out and cover his face with his hands as it ran down his face in grey streaks.  Oh how he wishes it would all just go away.  This sand was not like the Sandman’s, it is so much more malicious.  The pounding of the hooves against the stone floors drives him mad, which is just more fuel for the Night Mares. 

“What’s more powerful?  It’s fear!” 

Whispered voices would mimic incessantly, and Pitch doesn’t know if it somehow comes from his Night Mares or if those voices are within his own mind.  Fear is indeed, very powerful, and he now knows that all too well.  He feels so weak and in a constant state of panic.  He would sometimes try to open his eyes only to get more sand in them.  It is so incredibly dark, and abysmal, more so than usual.  The hole that was once there beneath the broken bed had filled up, leaving only the few dim torches along the walls to light anything.  He remembers hearing people from all over time talking about ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ and what they were like and whether or not they existed.  He oft heard of hell being described as scorching with fire consuming everything.  But that is not his hell, no his hell is pure darkness.

There are some days when they would call out things that don’t make any sense to him, but they still wound him, and whatever is left of his heart ached horribly.  He doesn’t quite understand why those specific words hurt him the most but they do.

“You lost her,” they murmur harshly.

“You did this to yourself and you lost her.”

“Who!?  Lost who?!  I have always been alone!”  Pitch shrieks, covering his ears, but he could still hear them.

“You lost her,” they hiss.  And that is always their answer.

“You destroyed _yourself_!”  You did this to _yourself_ and you lost her!”

“No!  I didn’t!  I was chosen, like we were all chosen!”

“You volunteered!  You destroyed _yourself_.  You lost the locket as you lost her.”

“Please… please leave me be, I do not know what you are talking about!”  He does his best to curl into himself and refrain from letting his sanity be stretched any thinner than it already is.  It never works, but he always keeps trying.

There is another day where he just sits back against the wall, his arms and legs limp, his head propped on the stone with his eyes open, now used to the sting.  The once vibrant gold is now a lackluster copper.  Such ghastly creatures his Night Mares are and he starts to wonder how he could have possibly used them in such a sinister manner.  So many things ran through his mind as the black sand whips around him, still taunting him.  He wonders how the world is without fear, how much better off it must be.  That is what the Guardians would tell him.  No one fears him anymore, no one likes fear, and why would they?  Fear is not something to be liked.  He is not someone to be liked.  He didn’t believe such misery existed, and there are days where he wishes he would just waste away until he was nothing but black sand as well.  That day never comes.

Eventually though, the morning came that the Guardians decided to go and confront Pitch.  Perhaps this is futile.  Perhaps he will just chase them out with some of his Night Mares.  Maybe he is no longer there.  They could not continue to run through all the different scenarios or else their own sanity would slip away.  With all the courage each can muster they make their way to his kingdom, though Bunny did not enjoy the method of transportation as usual.  But all carelessness and laughter dissipates when they arrive at where the broken bed used to be.  It had been torn to pieces and drug down the hole with Pitch when the Nightmares turned against him.  Bunny taps one of his back paws on the dirt to create a new hole down to his kingdom.

Pitch heard dirt crumbling and falling and saw the beams of light shining down upon his golden earth.  Having not seen any natural light in so long it pains him to look upon it and he curls up again and huddles in a corner hoping that whoever dared to disturb him would just go away.  He couldn’t see who intruded within his kingdom, but he could hear the footsteps, but only slightly for the voices still hiss and whisper and call out for him.  There is a blast of ice that startles him and freezes the Night Mares that stampede around him.  A boomerang flies forth and cracks them to pieces around Pitch’s feet.  The Guardians glance to one another before looking back to pitiful black mass huddled up in the corner.  This is not the Pitch they are used to.  This is not the powerful Nightmare King of whom they had to defeat for the greater good.  But this was his rawest form.  This was who Pitch was at his very core; damned by his own fear and damned by his madness.

Jack exchanged another worried glance to the others before taking a few steps towards Pitch, who scuttled away like a frightened dog.  This stopped the winter spirit in his tracks, and he turned and gave his staff to Tooth so that he could approach Pitch unarmed.

“Haven’t you done enough, already?” Pitch sneers at the boy when he gets closer.  “All of you!  Just leave me be.  I am of no concern of yours anymore.”

Jack sighs, “We didn’t want _this_ to happen, Pitch.  You did some terrible things, and yes you deserved to be punished for them.  But this is not what we wanted.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it when it first happened!?  Why did you wait so long?”

Jack’s breath hitches, he isn’t sure what to say.  “I… I don’t know.  We didn’t know what to do, Pitch…”

“I would have been weakened enough not to retaliate as it was.”

It was at this point that Tooth flutters forth and stands beside Jack.  She takes a deep breath before speaking, clutching the tooth in her hand tightly. 

“I have something that you may want to see,” she tells him with a soft voice. 

“What could you possibly have that I would want to see?!”

“Your memories.”

Those words make him finally look at them with his dull eyes.  “What did you say?”

“Your memories.  That tooth that I, ah… knocked out, though it is a permanent tooth, it still held your memories, Pitch.  That is very rare, and you need to see them.”

He slowly stands up on trembling legs, using the wall for leverage.  “Did you watch them?  What kind of wretched man was I?”

“I did, and it’s not like that.  Not like that at all.”

The Nightmare King looks at her open hand where the tooth rests against her palm, and then back up to her face.  He wears a skeptic expression, but he is also now curious.  He wonders if she is lying to him and if they are just there to show him how horrid he has always been.  North notices that he is having a difficult time walking, having not moved in so long.  Against his better instincts he helps Pitch across the large room to his dilapidated throne.  He did not want to admit that he is grateful for the assistance, he still had an ounce of pride and dignity left. 

“Are you ready?” Tooth asks.

“Just play them already.”

She doesn’t respond, and instead she just begins to project them against one of the stone walls just as she did at North’s place.

They start with him in battle, and they notice how Pitch no longer slumps in his throne as he sees a man that looks just like him.  His skin is peachy white with red upon his cheeks, and his hair is a lovely shade of brown.  His eyes sparkle even though he is in mid-battle, much different than how he looks now.  The coat and trousers he wears are a deep navy blue and a magnificent gold as is his armor.  It only adds to his glorious appearance.  He watches the man—himself fight the Fearlings with all the valor and strength he can muster.  His sword gleams in the moonlight as it slashes through the phantoms, turning them into useless sand.  The ones that are not vanquished are captured and taken away.  Pitch’s heart pounds as he continues to observe.  He eventually learns that his name used to be Kozmotis Pitchiner, and that he was a General.  It is hard to believe that, that was him.  A _war hero_?

He looks to Tooth with disbelief.

“Just… keep watching.”

Pitch returns his gaze to his memories, and sees himself standing at the jail where the Fearlings are kept.  And like Tooth before, an overwhelming feeling of dread washes over him.  He can see himself getting weary, but then he opens a locket around his neck and smiles.  Pitch’s eyes are wide as saucers now, as he is beginning to understand what the voices meant.  The locket, but what’s inside, or who?  As soon as he asks himself this, the perspective changes and he is now looking down with his own eyes to a little girl’s picture inside the locket.  He puts a shaky hand over his mouth to try and muffle any sobs that threaten to escape from his throat.  However, he cannot stop the silent tears that run down his face.  He hopes no one notices them, for he knows he looks pathetic, but it can’t be helped. 

When they return to the prison, that terrible dreadful feeling returns, his muscles are tense and his heart is pounding against his chest again.  He looks even more tired, now, and Pitch wonders how many weeks, months, _years_ he had been there.  But then he looks at the locket again and regains his composure.  Pitch knows that this will not end well and he wants to scream out for himself to get away, but he knows it’s futile, what will happen has already happened.  The only thing he can do is watch intently as eventually the Fearlings catch on to how Kozmotis regains his strength.  They claw at the door and laugh and cackle and call out for the General.  At first their clamoring is ignored, but it then takes on a terrifying familiarity. 

“Daddy, help me please, I’m scared!  It’s so dark and they’re –they’re touching me.  Please daddy help me, get them off, get me out of here!”

“No… no, you’re not really my daughter.  You’re just a trick.  My daughter is at home with her mother safe and sound.  And they are waiting for me to return to them, and I _will_ return.”

“No!  Daddy, please!  They captured me and killed mom!  They knew they needed to bribe you.  Please, you must believe me!”

“You’re not really her… I know you’re not.  It’s just a trick…” 

Isn’t it?  What if it wasn’t though?  No!  No, get your head straight Pitchiner, he scolds himself.

“Why won’t you help me?  Don’t you love me anymore?”  There is a shrill scream, before her begging intensifies.  “Daddy please, please get me out of here!  I’m so frightened, it’s so dark.  I don’t know what they’re going to do to me to get you to believe me, please!

Kozmotis covers his hears and clenches his eyes shut.  “NO!  YOU’RE NOT REAL!”

There is more screaming, and more begging, and sounds of Fearlings scuttling closer.  Kozmotis’ breathing is heavy and his heart is pounding loudly in his chest.  He doesn’t know what to do.  What if it is true?  Prisoners of war aren’t a new thing.  But why would they wait so long to use her as a bribe?  No, it isn’t real, she isn’t real.  It’s all a trick.  Do not believe them!  He cannot escape the screaming and begging and it is wearing on him fast.  The pleading goes from being scared to being hurt.  They are hurting her.  Your daughter is being hurt and you’re just standing here.  If it is true you are letting them harm her and you are not helping her.  That is the last straw and he flings open the door in a daring yet desperate display.  Before he can see the error of his ways they all swarm upon him in an enormous black mass, consuming the goodness and humanity within him.  Kozmotis is screaming and trying to fight them off, but it’s no use, there are too many.  They yank the locket off and he can feel the small chain break, and he sees the locket fall to the ground right before he is consumed completely.  He rears his head back and laughs a bone-chillingly cold laugh, just as evil as them.

Then it is over.

The others are afraid to look back at Pitch at first, fearing what they may see.  They aren’t sure why they’re afraid to look back.  Perhaps they are afraid of seeing Pitch anything else but a power-hungry, unfeeling monster, that they would then feel some guilt for what had happened, despite the fact that the Night Mares attacking was not of their doing.  Not directly, at least.  They knew he had to be reprimanded though, that was a given.  Attempted murder does not go unpunished.  But as Guardians they can see that the severity of the situation changes things somewhat.  There is more to this than they once knew, but they aren’t sure if Pitch would care to change his ways at all.  If he decided not to, they would have to keep fighting him.  There would be no other way.  Eventually though Jack turns to see if Pitch is even still there.  He is, he sits on his broken throne with an expression that could only be described as anguish, pure anguish. 

He places his hand on Pitch’s arm, but he jerks it away.  Jack is a little disheartened by that.  “I can’t say that I’m sorry for not joining you…  But, I can see now why you became so defensive and angry.  And I forgive you for what you have done.  It doesn’t excuse it, but I can understand it better.  I know that you didn’t know of this either, but you did know that you had an intense longing for a family again.”

“Please, just leave,” Pitch says in a raspy voice that is barely above a whisper.

The Guardians exchange glances, before North speaks.  “Are you going to return to your old ways, Pitch?  We really don’t want to fight you anymore.”

“I don’t have any Night Mares.  No one believes in me.  I am weak and hated and there is no possible way for me to return to my former status.  Now leave me _be._ ”  His voice is more aggressive now, and anger begins to bubble beneath the surface.

Sensing this, the Guardians decide it is best if they just do as he says, but North gives him one last glance before leaving.  He still wanted to discuss things with Pitch, but now is not the best time.  Perhaps he would be back.  Pitch, on the other hand hopes that they will never show their faces to him ever again.  He doesn’t know what to do or how to feel.  However, he is glad that the Night Mares are gone, but he will not voice his gratitude.  As he sits and ponders his situation he hears the familiar clop of horse hooves and his blood runs cold. 

_No, no, please, not again…_

He looks over his shoulder to see Onyx carefully making her way to the throne room.  She whinnies softly as if to say she isn’t there to harm and Pitch relaxes somewhat, still unsure if he should trust her yet.  She stops sensing his apprehension, and they stare at each other for a moment before Pitch decides that she’s not going to hurt him.  He beckons her forth and she slowly walks over to where he stands on shaky legs.  Pitch takes a step but almost immediately loses his footing from how weak his muscles are.  Onyx trots over and he props himself up against her. 

“I thought you were gone.”

She gives him another small whinny, and he sighs while petting her mane.  He feels utterly lost, but he would rather be struck dead by Manny himself before asking _them_ for help.


End file.
